Tony Benn once recommended that we should ask our leaders 5 Important Questions:

What power have you got?

Where did you get it from?

In whose interests do you exercise it?

To whom are you accountable?

And how can we get rid of you?

Now, it strikes me that, were I to sit Mariano Rajoy down with a drink and say: "Look Mariano, I'm going to ask you 5 questions, and between you, me and this glass of gazpacho, be honest." I think he'danswer:

Complete and Total

We have always had it.

Our own.

No-one

You can't.

But things were not always like this. Once upon a time - for a fleeting moment in history - Spain enjoyed a flourishing democracy unlike anything the world had seen before, but it lasted just a few months. One man, however, witnessed that moment and wrote down the lessons he learnt in 3 majorly important books:

Homage to Catalonia

Animal Farm

1984

And his name, was George Orwell. (Read More below for video and podcast on Orwell)

Shadows and Silhouettes (Book 1) was re-released at the beginning of the month with the promise that the sequel - Book 2 Blanco y Negro would be available from this week.

Blanco y Negro continues to explore contemporary Spain by asking: What happens when you remove the sky blues, verdant greens and sandy yellows from this hybrid country?

The answer can be found in the contrast of dramatic images and the revelatory words of different travellers as they have arrive on these shores. Download, put your feet up, slow down and enjoy this new book.

"Nice Cup of Coffee in Plaza Mayor" or Stunning Photobook?

Choice is Yours. Have a look at some of the screen shots above and decide for yourself. Usually 2.49 - each book is now half price (Nice cup of coffee or 75 pages of stunning photography showing another Spain altogether. Find out more about the series here: Or just grab a copy right away and download both versions in PDF and epub for the same price from here. (Share and get the 50% off).

Pointy hats, incense burners and discordant brass instruments. But Semana Santa is more than just an assault of the senses, it is an participatory experience for the religious and the agnostics amongst you.

This weeks podcast looks at the arrival of the processions, the arrival of waxy streets once more and the arrival of the brass bands as they slip and slide on the watery roads during the rest of the week.

Follow the Gazpachomonk as he pursues the varied headwear, the coloured robes and the swinging incense burners throughout the cobbled narrow streets, recording snippets of sound and moments of delight.

Catch the episode here, download a version to your phone or subscribe to the series on iTunes: Speaking of Spain.

On the twitter sphere this week has circulated a a photo of a page from a book on learning Spanish. Its for English speaking students of Spanish and is has been causing a few chuckles amongst the Spanish speaking community, not surprisingly.

Manny Ana: Tomorrow

Maybe because they think it is actually accurate, maybe because - and this is the worrying part - it isn't that inaccurate! Have a look and see what you think for yourself. I retweeted it immediately, so you'll have a copy if you are following the Gazpachomonk on twitter.

Moo E When O: Very Good

You could argue, if it works, why knock it? Of course it only works if you have a certain accent and it only works if you can remember English nonsense instead of actual Spanish words, but hey, different strokes for different folks.

" Tourism is an intriguing concept. Place it in a bowl alongside one small Mediterranean town, add a sprinkling of urban development, marinate some wild fantasies for golf courses and yachting marinas, then stand back and watch what happens. "Inside the Tortilla

Many have said that I have been too harsh on Coastal Dwellers in my book Inside The Tortilla, but I beg to differ. Yesterday I spent a pleasant day on the coastal strip of Granada, perusing this "serpentine mall" and wondering other tricks these small towns have left up their sleeves, for survival in the post-Euro-Crisis.

Yes, tourism has brought tack and all but destroyed the Iberian Med, but it has also buffered these sea-dwellers from the harsher economic downturn of inland Spain. Whereas in my high street, shop closures and an idle workforce are daily more apparent, there is, on the strip, year round tourism that brings with it at least a trickle of money and a reason for many establishments to remain open.

And oh, the light and warm air eased my chilled bones of late. Even The Hound couldn't resist the urge for a quick dip and a round of his favourite game: Fetch that stone.

But then, on heading back along the bottom of that dramatic ravine which separates the coastal and inland parts of the Granada province, I was reminded of the sheer beauty and diversity of life when you step back from the grey sand and stones of the beach. For the sea blinds you. It transfixes you and hypnotises you into believing that there, on that small dusty strip of stone and water lies life itself.Who knows. Perhaps it is true.

Upon awakening I knew something had arrived.There was a detectable change in pressure. The wall of heat that had been here since June had finally lifted. To celebrate, I put on a pair of jeans. I even reached for the sock drawer, opening it a little, but then pulling back at the last moment. Silly boy! I peered in and the socks gave me an unemployed look. Have patience, I whispered as I pushed the drawer quietly to. Oh such pleasure awaited me outside the back door. A delicious chill hung in the air, and in the sky a few clouds had returned after the summer break, to share anecdotes and muster a little solidarity. However, they did little else that morning but taunt me from afar. By the afternoon though, they began to grumble in anticipation and assemble in greater confidence. I tried to close the balcony door for the first time in months - it complained - but I insisted. This was one of my unfinished jobs to do. But not yet. Now I wanted to just wander aimlessly savouring the richness of anticipation.

It arrived an hour later. First in my imagination - as the faint sound of someone or something tapping gently on the roof tiles, unfamiliar but insistent - and then reality hit. In fact, everything got hit. All the collective dirt, dust and grime of months of building work poured off the roof and down the still guttering-less walls. It streamed down as a wall of water, into gaps where windows ought to have been, under doors that still had no frames and back, flowing back into the house where tiles had still to be laid. And still it came, harder and harder, down through the air vent in the bathroom, running down exposed beams and filling one corner of the untilled patio with just enough water for The Hound to swim safely across. Yet the Níspero tree smiled as its once cement covered leaves were showered off, and the fingers of the honeysuckle stretched out to welcome the water. And from the dripping hallway of an old house in the old barrio alto, one man and a dog learnt that the oven door had finally closed.

This was a short exert from the bookInside the Tortilla. Like to read more? Grab the ebook for just 3.99 or less at the Amazon Kindle Store or in other ebook formats here. Also now in PAPERBACK from here or from Amazon.